Claudia Is Somebody
by Charles C. Cole
Claudia flew up the stairs to her therapy appointment. Inside, Dr. Dixon waited calmly, relaxing on the recliner used by his clients, thumbing his latest issue of Montana Fishing.
Claudia let herself in. “Sorry. No excuses.”
“The woman of the hour. I knew you’d make it. Catch your breath. No rush; my next appointment cancelled.”
“Then I’m good,” she said, panting.
“Yes.” He winked. “Therapist humor.”
Claudia hung her jacket on the coat tree while Dr. Dixon transitioned to the low-backed captain’s swivel chair with snug wraparound arms. No scribbling, just full-on attention for this therapist; notes later, if needed. The office was small, but bright with plenty of plants. They sat closely opposite each other.
Dr. Dixon was wearing his favorite loose gray cardigan. “How is Claudia?”
“Confused. Distracted. Anxious.”
“That’s quite an emotional cocktail. What about? Besides the usual, I mean.”
“I told you last week — didn’t I? — that when I visited my foster mom’s grave, I heard fluttering wings.”
“Right.” He crossed his arms in thought.
“They were loud and close by, too close for a bird.”
“Unless it was out of sight somehow.”
“There are no trees. It’s not one of those pretty cemeteries. And nothing flew overhead. Anyway, I heard them again, at Red’s Dairy on Willard Beach. I was sitting by myself at a picnic table and—”
“Let me guess: the seagulls came to keep you company.”
“Not a one. I think they were busy following the ferries,” she joked.
“What flavor ice cream? Makes a difference.”
“Excuse me?’
“I’m kidding, Claudia. Go on.”
“Then I pulled over near my house. A different day. Because someone had hit a cat.”
“And you heard wings again? The same or different?”
“I looked up, expecting a crow, an owl, maybe a vulture.”
“But nothing,” added Dixon.
“Just the beating of wings. Fast, very excited. And I started thinking. I know it sounds weird, but hear me out. Is it possible I’m secretly dying? And there’s an angel hovering about, come to take me home, following me around, ready to lift off when the moment happens.”
“You must be pretty important,” said Dr. Dixon gently, “to qualify for an escort.”
“So, it’s not possible?” Dixon smiled in answer.
There was a large mirror hanging on the back of the closed office door. Out of the corner of her eye, Claudia always got the impression that she was in a party of four. “Claudia, in my experience, most answers are inside us. I think it’s time you face the mirror.”
“Do I have to?” she asked, slumping forward melodramatically.
“Don’t be afraid. Believe it or not, she’s your best friend.”
“Fine.” Claudia stood and stepped closer to her reflection, reluctant but committed.
“Say hi.”
“I’m good.”
“What do you see?” he asked.
“Honestly? Someone going out of her mind.”
Dr. Dixon harrumphed comically. “You’re not dying and you’re not crazy. Let’s do this. Tell me, what were you thinking about when you had the ice cream?”
“There was a little boy, maybe three years old. He dropped his cone. He was crying. Instead of offering to buy him another, his mother dragged him to the car. I guess I was sending him love, in my head. Somebody had to.”
“And the dead cat?”
“I was so sad. I said a little prayer and hoped it found its way to animal heaven.”
“And your foster mom?”
“I missed her, sure, but I was happy that, after a long life of struggle and pain, she’d finally found some peace, her reward for being there for the rest of us.”
“What do they all have in common?” asked Dixon.
“Hard knocks, I guess.”
“And?” prompted Dr. Dixon.
Claudia shrugged.
“You. You cared for all of them, deeply, when others dismissed them. You’re a conduit of mercy. You are the angel whose wings you hear.”
“Me?! Like a real angel?”
“Why not?”
“Because I’d know, wouldn’t I? That’s silly.”
“Is it? Hold your nose close to the mirror, so your face is blurry. Go ahead. Don’t look at yourself. But send love out. To the child and the cat and your foster mom, to the world, to the ones who need you. You’ve always been near to bursting with love. Focus on what’s behind you, the area just over your shoulders. There’s a bright, blurry movement, isn’t there? You see it?”
Claudia nodded slowly, amazed. There was something there. Or was Dr. Dixon somehow making a hypnotic suggestion?
“Listen. Do you hear them?” he asked.
“I think I do. Fluttering wings. But, from where?”
“You. They’re yours,” he said.
“Mine?”
“Yours.”
“How? Why?” she asked.
“That’s how you found me. You were drawn to me when you needed answers. I’m here to help all angels who try being human for a while, to see how the other side lives. It’s a special assignment, for both of us. And sometimes it’s a struggle. You can’t help feeling different, being who you are, leading with your heart, “hearing” other people’s moods. Sometimes the true you shines through. I guess, some habits are hard to break.”
“I’m an angel? No kidding?”
“No kidding,” he said. “How does that make you feel?”
“Pretty cool. It actually explains a lot. So, they’re there but nobody can see them, not even me.”
“They’d be kind of distracting.”
“Are there other angels around?”
“Probably a few are your friends. You tend to find each other. It’s a vibration thing.”
“Do I have any special powers?”
“Love is your superpower. To everyone else, you’re just another human. Terms and conditions, that sort of thing.”
“Can I still come back, for my next appointment I mean, if I have a bad day or need help?”
“Always,” he said. “Now, go and spread your wings, little miss angel. But remember, you’re operating undercover.”
Claudia grabbed her jacket and ran down the stairs as fast as she’d run up them. “Look out world,” she shouted, “I’m somebody!”
Copyright © 2023 by Charles C. Cole
